


No Heroes, No Villains

by izzyandapanda



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, NSFW, Smutty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2019-10-29 07:13:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17803451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izzyandapanda/pseuds/izzyandapanda
Summary: Living in Hells Kitchen your whole life has been pretty dull until recently. With the "Devil of Hells Kitchen" coming to light and now a new vigilante "The Punisher", walking the streets seems to be safer. You work with your best friend since childhood, Foggy and his partner Matt at their law firm. One day, 'Nelson and Murdock' get a new client. This client just happens to be the biggest change in your career and personal life.





	1. Chapter 1

"HELP! PLEASE SOMEONE!"

Hells Kitchen. A place where dreams come to die, or is it a place where dreams come to thrive? Either way, right now it feels like the latter as the barrel of a revolver brushes my nose. Growing up here as a kid, you're warned every day about the threat of being mugged. The threat of being beaten. The threat of being murdered. The break from the madness was refreshing, and at this point I would do anything to be back at University. The night is cold enough that my panting breaths are visible. The man in front of me is masked in a dark hoodie and sweats, with a basic tennis shoe on his feet. He's medium height but broad, broad enough that trying to take that gun would be stupid. Breathing deeply, I make eye contact with him, trying to give a pleading look.

"Alright, listen dude. I'm a broke graduate, the best I can give you is my neckl-"

I don't get the chance to finish before the whistling of a thrown object permeates the air. A flash in the street light catches my attention and the mugger is on the ground. Beside the wide body lay a red baton, and the shiny gun. I kick the gun away and step back waiting to be attacked myself. A muffled footfall creeps in the darkness, as another dark figure appears. While the figure approaches the stench of blood and leather attack my nostrils. My face crinkles at the scent, the urge to turn away not strong enough to pull my attention from the masked figure entering the dull light. He's not too tall maybe around 5'10. He's covered from head to toe in red leather, with a helmet like mask covering his face. His footsteps are quiet as he approaches, looking directly at the groaning thug in front of me. I can feel my heart jump into my throat as he gets closer and can't stop myself from word vomiting.

"Listen, helmet mask guy, like I told the fuck wad; I am a broke college graduate and I have a pretty cheap necklace... Hey, HEY! What are you doing?"

The figured has turned the thug over, and straddled the almost unconscious body. The leather covered hero, now turned vigilante as he continues to beat the thug. The sound of gloved fists breaking bones in a mans face will forever be unforgettable. Every time there is contact, blood splatter decorated the dirty concrete. The pained groans of my mugger begin to fade, the thug slowly dying after each connection. The leather coated man continues his onslaught, and I just couldn't take it anymore. I move forward, and use all my strength to push my would be hero from the motionless body. This action seems to snap the guy out of his daze, and he looks up at me. The remnants of blood paint my hands a brilliant shade of crimson, and I meet his gaze with a scowl.

"What the fuck dude! Were you planning on killing him, or putting him into a coma for the rest of his life? Fuck, your cheerleader equipment did a fine job of putting him on his ass. Are-Are you listening to me? I'm TALKING TO YOU!" 

Walking away slowly, the bloodied man chuckles ever so slightly before stopping. I can see his shoulders sag in the dimly lit street. It feels like a western stand off, both of us waiting of each other's move. The tension is palpable, the temptation to reach out and grasp it is intoxicating. The man turns around, his movements swift and silent. His breathing still ragged from the beating he gave to the now groaning body. He spoke thoughtfully and eloquently, surprising me to the core. 

"Um, thank you. Really. If you didn't stop me, I might've killed that man. Or put him in a coma. So again, thank you."

"Yeah, well you're welcome. Um, thanks for hitting him in the head with your cheerlead-"

"It's not a cheerleading tool."

"Eh it kind of is. It's a baton right?"

"Yes."

"Cheerleading."

"Gymnastics."

"The point is, helmet mask, I'm saying thank you for stopping that guy. Now, can you maybe walk me home, because I'm scared shitless to walk down this street." 

"Daredevil."

"What?"

"Th-they call me Daredevil."

"I don't know, I kind of like helmet mask"

"Please.."

"Fine, Daredevil. Now can you please walk me home before another gun toting lunatic comes out?"

"Yeah, I can do that."

*********************************************

The walk home was long and tedious. 'Daredevil' kept very quiet the whole time, even when I tried to start conversation. Before we started on our walk he grabbed a black duffel bag and slug it over his shoulder. I attempted to ask if he had pom poms hidden within, but he refused to answer. Any attempt at conversation he would brush off with a grunt or telling me to watch my step. The night grew colder and colder, even with the heavy sweater I had on a chill began to creep within my bones. As if feeling the warmth from my body disappear, my temporary body guard hands me a black zip up. The scent of cinnamon and a light hint of a familiar cologne, is a relief from the old blood and leather that I had been smelling. I thank him and continue to try and get some information from him.

"So Daredevil, that's an interesting name"

No response.

"You sure you didn't give it to yourself or?"

Again, no answer.

"Ah, the silent, brooding type. Are you single? I know this-"

What appears to be a muffled laugh escapes, making the street around us seem to brighten. The laugh was soft and kind, almost infectious if he kept it going. He was shaking his head, white straight teeth cutting through the darkness. Smiling in return I continue to try and get something out of him, anything to find out who my hero is.

"So helmet-"

"Daredevil"

"Right, Daredevil. You've been doing this long?"

"It feels like an eternity, but around 2 and a half years. This is your place, isn't it?"

"Uh yeah. Weird. You sure you're not stalking me Daredevil?"

This gets another small chuckle from the masked man. Tonight has been full of fear, adventure and near death. The small stoop to the door seems to be miles long, each stair a mountain. I'm not ready to leave the company of my new devil companion. Maybe this is what Stockholm Syndrome feels like. I reach for my keys, and look back at the masked rescuer. He's stood still, as if hearing for anything to give away that we were followed. Clearing my throat, his attention passes back towards me. A hint of a grin playing at his lips.

"Welp, I'd invite you in but you could still be a serial killer. You also don't seem like the kind to hang out with their damsels. So thanks again 'Daredevil'. I'm keeping the hoodie by the way, it's what us women do."

"Eh-heh, you're welcome..."

"Oh, that's you asking for my name. I'm Charlotte, but go ahead and call me Charlie. Not that we'll meet again, but uh yeah. Goodnight Red."

"Red? I haven't heard that in a while. I'm sure I'll see you soon Charlie. Goodbye."

That was it. Before I knew it, he disappeared into the night. Maybe he flew away? A long tired sigh escapes before the door is even opened. At least maybe I'll sleep decently tonight. Slinking inside the small apartment, I pull out my phone to see a text from Foggy. 

Foggy:

Hey Char! I can't wait to see you tomorrow! Get ready to be apart of Nelson and Murdock!

Man, he's gonna shit himself when he hears what happened tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

"Wake Me Up, Before you GO GO"

The alarm sounds like an amp turned up too eleven. Nausea settles deep in my belly as the events of last night play over like a nightmare. Almost getting mugged (possibly killed), getting saved by a helmet mask guy, and then having the guy walk me home after I stopped him from killing someone. Daredevil. The name still tastes foreign, even though it's been playing over and over from the moment I crash landed in my bed. The man, covered from head to toe in crimson, saved the day. His tone dark, brooding, with a hint of loneliness that could shatter even the happiness of souls. His tone changed after he laughed, even the small chuckle managed to light up the world around us. It was like Beethoven's final symphony, perfect but not completely whole. Feeling like this after last night, it's like a hangover from to much adrenaline. The sun peaks through the black out curtains, casting dancing shadows across the unpainted walls. The bitter smell of coffee drifts through the air, an intoxicating way to make my eyes open fully. A deep breath through the nostrils helps my body fully appreciate the hot, bitter, bean water that is brewing. After the sixth time of playing the song, my alarm finally shuts off. Then a realization hit me; how do I smell brewing coffee? I haven't gotten up yet, OH-

"MY GOD! WHO THE FUCK IS IN MY HOUSE?!"

The room moved so quickly, that it seemed the earth was playing a game. I don't think I've ever moved so quickly in my 25 years of life. Grabbing the hidden bat from beneath my bed, I storm my way into the small kitchen. Mentally preparing to fight 'Daredevil' to the death my breath hitches. What if it is Red? I mean if he was really down for murder he could've easily done it last night. Maybe he wants to rape and murder me? Again, last night was the best opportunity. Hmm possibly he just wants a cup of Jo after a long night of beating people up? The small hallway conceals whoever is on the other side. The metal instrument feels heavy as my breaths come in small gasps. The bat rises painfully slow over head while I try to make as little noise as possible. This is it. Charlie, you're going to become a murderer but it's okay. Fogger can help ya. Oh I cannot go to prison I am way to pretty for that. And sarcastic. I'd be killed the first day. Inhaling deeply, time seems to slow down. My vision becomes focused on a shadow peeking around the corner, getting prepared to probably get murdered. A loud battle cry, that sounds more like a shriek escapes as I pounce.

"CHARLIE WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

"WHAA-Foggy? FOGGY! How in the fucking hell did you get in? Did-Did you BREAK into my apartment? That's it, I'm getting a fucking dog. After last night, and now my best friend breaking into my house, I need a killer. Like a German Shepherd or someth-QUIT LAUGHING AT ME."

It was so hard to stay mad at Foggy, especially when he starts to laugh. Franklin Percy Nelson, better known as Foggy to friends and Fogger to me. We've been attached at the hip since childhood. Our mother's went to college together and had Foggy and I two years apart. He used to baby sit me in Junior High, and I used to hang out with him and all his friends. When he graduated for Columbia, I was there with flowers and a stuffed frog that he keeps on his desk. He's been such a pain in the ass, but the best friend a girl could hope for. Just like an older brother, even though I never wanted one. Foggy embraced me in a deep hug, his warmth seeping in through my cold body. He smelled of flowery shampoo and a masculine cologne, a scent that was always a distant memory. His soft figure presses firmly against mine, and underneath a hard body hides. This takes me off guard and I pull away, finally examining him. Foggy was about 5'9 and had some of the best hair I had seen on anyone. The hair was blonde, lustrous, and to be envy'd by women everywhere. Foggy's eyes were ever-changing with his moods. The colors switch between hazel and green, creating an illusion at times where he had two different colored eyes at the same time. He was always on the thicker side but he seems much smaller than the last time. He's wearing a loose fitting suit, one that shows his weight loss but in a flattering way.

"Fogger, have you been working out? YOU CUT YOUR HAIR? Oh Aunt Anna must hate that!"

"Charlie, calm down take a breath. Here, have some coffee; we can catch up on the way to work. I brought you a bagel also. So eat up, get ready, and prepare for your first day as a lawyer!"

"But Fog-"

"No but's, now hurry up. Wear something professional, also watch the language."

*********************************************

"He gave you his hood- Wait. So you're telling me, the Devil of Hells Kitchen saved you last night and gave you a hoodie? Daredevil? That's some story Char, and lemme guess the 'Punisher' carried you home?"

"The Punish- No, idiot. I told you. Daredevil walked me home and on the way gave me his hoodie. Why is this so hard to believe? I, a beautiful young woman was in distress, and a weird guy in a red helmet mask saved me."

The sun was high in the sky by the time we had started toward the firm. The city way alive and in full force. Car horns, police sirens, laughing, yelling, cursing, everything you picture New York to be in the middle of Autumn. The crisp air nips at exposed skin, making the dress I'm wearing to be a bit uncomfortable. Recounting the events of last night seemed to be a light joke to Foggy. His hazel/green eyes lit up when I told him about the cheerleader comments. He found the whole situation funny, which by the end of the tale I was laughing also. The whole story sounds like some weird comic book illustration. A beautiful young woman walking down the street, gets attacked by a mugger, and a masked cheerleader saves the day? Almost comedy gold. It makes one wonder.

"So wait," I get out between a sip of coffee "You're telling me the guy that rescued me last night was probably an escaped mental patient? Great, and I led the guy right to my front door."

"HAH! No, idiot. He's just known as a myth and legend. He took down Wilson Fisk! The Wilson Fisk! The biggest baddie of Hells Kitchen"

"You helped too Fogger. Hmph, well last night I saw the legend. Like when those religious people see Jesus or whatever. I could be a prophet."

"Charlie if you don't shut up, I'm going to push you into traffic."

A cold wind rushes past, making my hair fly about like Disney's Pocahontas. With hair everywhere, I bump into a person waiting at the cross walk. His body is hard, lean, and didn't move an inch. Foggy cackles beside me and the stranger apologizes before greeting Foggy. His tone is light, happy, and sounds a little familiar. His voice is moderately deep, a bit monotone as if he's trying to mask the emotions in his voice. The sweet smell of cinnamon fills the air as my hair begins to clear from my face. A small curse falls out of my mouth as I apologize to the stranger. His smile was the first thing to catch my attention, a bright white smile that could melt ice. Brown hair parted on the right side fell fashionably to the left, lightly brushing into his face with the wind. Round sunglasses tinted red covered his eyes, giving no hint to the objects behind them. His jaw was covered in a dark stubble, it made him look distinguished and hardworking. His fitted suit clung attractively to his body, one hand lazily in his pocket while the other holding a white cane. The smiling face turned to one of shock as if he finally realized someone had bumped into him. A pinkish hue kissed at his pale cheeks, while extending his hand.

"Hi, I'm Matt. Foggy has told me so much about you Charlotte."

"Um hi, and please call me Charlie; Charlotte makes me feel like a Puritan."

"Alright Charlie, it's nice to meet you. Foggy told me that you're our new employee?"

"It looks that way Matty. I hope you're okay with a powerful, intelligent, good-looking woman coming in and running shit."

Matt coughs loudly while I place my hands on my hips. Foggy laughs hard, placing a hand softly on Matt's shoulder to guide him to the cross walk. Without any further remarks I shrug and continue on my journey. During the day, Hells Kitchen looked like a giant playground for those trying to make it. Business men and women, peddlers on the street, store owners; here in New York you can achieve anything. New York where all your dreams can come true, where you can get rescued by a weirdo in a red mask, or help the most wanted man fight for what he believes in.

**********************************************

The building was tall and made of brick, like most of the structures on the street. The smell of rotting wood and old books assault the senses as soon as the front door opens. Chipped paint line the walls leading to the small area that is 'Nelson and Murdock'. The door knob struggles to turn as Foggy forces his way in. Matt follows, holding the door open before I slink by. 'Nelson and Murdock' consisted of two small offices, opposing each other from the room. Sitting center is a small waiting area, and a desk with 'Charlotte L. Phoenix: Attorney Secretary.'

"Attorney Secre- That's not. Fogger, why does this say 'attorney secretary'?"

"Fogger?" Matt pipes in before ducking into his office.

"Uhhhh, Charlie."

"Franklin Percy Nelson, why does it say secretary and not 'attorney at law' what shit is this?"

"Charlie, remember language..."

"You can shove that out your ass. You can tell your employees to watch their language. I'm out of-"

"Char, before you finish that, please sit."

Foggy motions to his office and an ancient chair that's placed symmetrically in front of his desk. The aged chair groans loudly under the new weight that has occupied it. On Foggy's desk, a small frog sits directly by his monitor. A baseball in a glass case sat on the corner, while case files fill in any empty space. Foggy sat on the edge of his desk, and ran his hands nervously through that thick blonde hair. In all of the years I've known Foggy, I've only seen him flustered a handful of times. The worst was during Christmas vacation before his final bar exams. Never have I seen a man drink so many energy drinks, cheap coffee, and eat so much deli meat. It's like he didn't sleep for five months. Matt approached silently, which for a blind guy is pretty impressive. He stood stoic in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. He smirked a little before nodding toward Foggy. I focus my attention back to Foggy and raise an eyebrow.

"Charlie."

"Foggy."

"Charlotte."

"Really, we're gonna do this? I'll leave right now."

"Sorry. Sorry. Listen, Charlie, I know I may have misled-"

"Misled?! Franklin you lied to me!"

"Tomayto, Tomahto. Listen, Charlie, we really do need you. Matt and I need you." Foggy paused walking over to his partner. "We need someone who can do the secretary stuff and the law stuff. Think how awesome that would be! Right Matt?"

"Yeah, um, right"

"Thank you Matthew. Listen, we helped put Wilson Fisk away! We're growing so quickly and we may need assistance in setting up appointments, getting coffee, making cop-"

Matt hastily puts his hand over Foggy's mouth. A thick and heavy silence pushes its way into the small room. Matt pushes Foggy away. My eyes trail after Foggy, his head hung while dragging his feet out of the office. And then there were two. The crushing silence turned into something more comfortable when Foggy had left. Within five grueling minutes, Matt steps forward pinching the bridge of his nose. No bumps, no stumbles, walking perfectly as if he could see as clear as a hawk, Matt makes his way to the desk. He's must've done this walk a thousand times because he manages to end up where Foggy began. Matt leans comfortably against the desk, deep in thought. I savor the silence between us and look the lawyer over again. Small scars kiss his cheeks, lips, and forehead. A small cut stands out against his chapped lips as he rolls them together. Matt motions his head in my direction, as if making eye contact.

"So, um, hah, that was something." His voice was soft and uncertain. He grabbed the back of his neck and moved his head back.

Instead of a verbal response, I give a loud scoff and a hard eye roll.

"Charlie."

"Matthew."

"Please..."

Hm.

"Look, I understand you're upset; and I would be too. You want to be out there, making a difference in a world that needs heroes. Legal heroes. Th-Think of this as a field test. We're defense attorney's Charlie, so we get clients who have done some of the worst things you can imagine. Murder, rape, domestic violence, and more. Everyone deserves representation, and we've chosen to risk our names and occasionally our lives, to let everyone have a fair shot. But, we chose this. Maybe, with you helping and taking small cases here and there, you'll gather if this is what you want. Plus, Foggy would love to have you here. You also smell really nice, and it would give me a break from Foggy's cologne."

Matt smirks and I can't help but give a small smile in return. He could be right. Since Foggy and I were kids, we always talked about being lawyers. After watching 'My Cousin Vinny', we both decided our career path. Prosecutors do a lot of good work. The phone rings quietly in the background, and Foggy happily answers. The broken heater attempts to kick on, only blowing cold air into the small office. Matt has crossed his arms his head hanging desperate for an answer.

"Matt."

I reach out, and grab his forearms. His muscles tense as he uncrosses his arms, each movement causing small ripples in the fabric of his shirt. Grabbing his hands, my attention is drawn to them. He has long, slender, and pale fingers that give a stark contrast to my own. Bright pink scars decorate his knuckles. Smaller, almost invisibly faint scars trace up to his wrists; disappearing beneath the fabric. I trace my thumbs over his knuckles, looking up to see his head lifted to meet my gaze.

"I-Yeah, but-" Without being able to finish my thought, Foggy barged back into the office. His voice full of excitement and suspense.

"Matt, we just got a call from Karen."

Matt's hands fall from mine as he stands straight. His head snaps in the direction of Foggy, and a new awkward tension kills the space between us. Whose Karen? Is she Matt's girlfriend? Is she Foggy's girlfriend? He said we, so it has to be a 'we' thing. Matt brushes past before stopping midway.

"So Charlie's in, what's up with Karen?"

Before I get a chance to interject, Foggy cuts in.

"Frank 'Mother Fucking' Castle."


	3. Chapter 3

"So, anyone gonna tell me who Frank and Karen are or..."

The question hangs in the air as the two lawyers frantically grab their belongings. Foggy fumbles around his desk, looking for everything and anything that reads 'Castle.' Matt rushed into his own office, side stepping my fumbling best friend on his way out. The phone rings again, this time Matt answers quickly. The conversation is muffled over the rustling of paper work and loud cursing from Foggy. Frank Castle. It sounds familiar, like really familiar... A loud crash echoes into the room, and panic sets in quickly. Foggy and I exchange a quick glace before we rush into the waiting area. To our relief, Matt is still standing but the phone has been flung against the wall.

"Matt, what's going on?" Foggy rushes over, placing a supporting hand on Matt's shoulder.

I walk over to the phone, and pick up the machine from the floor. The old floor boards creak loudly as I strain to hear the conversation between Foggy and Matt. Their whispers blend together, making it impossible to decipher exactly what they were discussing. The word Dex was mentioned a few times, and the atmosphere in the room changed. A once bustling excitement changed to fear as they exchanged worried glances. Matt's breathing became heavy while sweat started forming on Foggy's temples. The walk past Foggy and Matt was uncomfortable. The tension between them and that conversation was palpable. The phone clinks quietly against the wooden desk. Before turning around and leaning against the desk, I cross my arms and hum in thought.

"Hmm, are we gonna explain what's going on, or are we going to act like I don't exist? Either way-"

"It's-It's nothing Charlie." Foggy interrupts before directing his full attention toward me. The anxiety and fear is evident on his face, not matter how hard he tries to hide it. He places a hand on Matt's shoulder, as if looking for support. A worried feeling starts to build in the pit of my stomach as I look into Foggy's eyes. "Um, Matt?"

"Right, Charlie would you mind staying behind while we go take this?"

"Actually, Matthew, I would mind. We're a team now and I deserve to be where the action is." The words fall like syrup, slowly and sweetly. As the words reach Matt he perks up when his full name falls from my mouth. A smirk ghostly appears, as if he's forgotten about any misgivings in the world. He shakes his head softly before positioning his body towards Foggy. The pulsating of a vibrating phone fills the silence and Foggy reaches into his pocket. He places his thumb against the screen before bringing the phone to his ear.

"Hey Karen... What do you mean he isn't there anymore? He just slipped-Karen calm down. Okay, Matt and I are on the way." Foggy pulls the phone away, his words ice cold as he addresses the room. "Charlie you have to stay here, Matt we need to go."

"Fog, what's wrong?" I question, uncrossing my arms to grasp his hand. The skin is cold and clammy. My eyes flick toward Matt, waiting for him to question Foggy as well. He stays silent, head hung so hide any emotion his face may give away.

"A lot, but just know, right here is the safest spot for you. Please, stay. Lock the door. I'll explain more later."

Sincerity. Fear. Worry. Honesty. Foggy managed to convey all of those emotions in those two short sentences. Trying to argue would be futile, and with the way he spoke I'm too afraid to. Both Foggy and Matt are shaken up by whatever is going on, and now I am too. Matt said they've put their careers and lives on the line. Yeah, I'm not ready to die right now. I nod and give Foggy a tight hug. He embraces me back tightly, as if he were afraid I'd fly away if he let go. Pulling away, I grasp Matt's upper arm before letting them leave. As they rush out, a loud groan falls from my mouth.

"GAAAAAAA..." Slinking over to my desk, I plop down in the cushioned chair. Tapping the space bar of my keyboard a few times, the screen pops up. "Welp, guess I'll have to do some googling."

******************************************************************************************

"Here she is: Charlie Phoenix at the free throw line. This shot will determine whether or not the Knicks take the game." Taking the shot, the paper ball bounces from the side of the trash can, landing beside the other lost game balls. "Ah fuck me."

It's been four hours since Matt and Foggy had to rush from the office. No texts, no calls, no emails, just me and my imaginary NBA final. The floor groaned loudly on as I make my way back to the desk. The office had warmed up slightly as the sun shined through the windows that had been painted shut. Flopping back into the cushioned chair, my heels slip off before my feet land on the desk. I crossed my legs over each other before leaning back comfortably. What to do, what to do? The silent question hangs around without anyone to answer.

Googling 'Frank Castle' gave me no leads on who this secret man was. It's as if anything on him had been removed from the face of the earth. No social media, no address on file and no phone number. It's like he was a construct of Matt and Foggy's imagination. After finding nothing on him, I moved to Karen. Karen Page. It took about 20 minutes to find out who she was, as I had to hit every letter in the alphabet to get a possible last name. After some deducing, Karen Page seemed to be the only Karen the guys knew. She used to work at 'Nelson and Murdock' and a picture of them graced an old newspaper cover. Karen was definitely a looker. Her build is tall and slender and it fits her perfectly. She has long blonde hair and bright, inquisitive blue eyes that seem to yearn for adventure. The smile she gives radiates confidence and pride. Oh Charlie, if we were into ladies, we'd hop after that.

Knock! Knock!

A loud pounding on the door kills the comfortable silence that was encompassing the room. A grumpy moan mixes in with the noise of the knocking as I sit up. Without slipping my heels back on, the trip to the opposite side of the room is almost noiseless. The cool wooden floor feels comfortable against my bare feet. The knocking continues until I grab the door knob. The cold metal sends goosebumps up my arm, causing the small hairs to rise. The door struggles to open, but after a good tug it comes loose.

"Welcome to 'Nelson and Murdock'! How can I he-l-p you?" My voice raises almost a full octave before the sentence is over.

Intimidation. The first noticeable attribute of the man standing in the door way. His dark, feathery hair sat messily under a YANKEES cap. Tiny wisps tickle at his intense brown eyes. These two piercing irises were the color of rich mahogany, with iridescent flecks of gold pooling randomly. A proud Roman nose created a slight shadow over pale chapped lips. A strong jaw was covered by a thick beard, matching the color of his hair. The clothing that hung from his body was worn and comfortable. A dark pair of denim jeans sat comfortably around his hips, while a gray hoodie adorned his midriff. He towered over me while trying to peak into the office.

"Uh, yeah, is Murdock here?" His voice was tough, rough and gravel like. It sounded primal and curious. The strange man moved forward, but I held the door and myself firmly in place. Something about this guy just seemed dangerous. Yeah but in a good or bad way? Shut up inner monologue.

"Mr. Murdock and Mr. Nelson are out of the office currently. If you'd like I could grab your information for them, are you a client?"

"Yeah, yeah, sumin like that." He grumbled checking the hallway leading to the office. As he strained his neck to check further down the hall, prominent scars protrude from beneath his sweatshirt. Gulping loudly, I capture his attention before speaking.

"Wonderful, Mr.?"

"Castiglione. Pete Castiglione."

"Okay, Mr. Castiglione, if you don't mind I'm just goin-"

"Yeah ya see, the thing is, I really need ta leave him a message too. Ya know, client privilege stuff darlin. So can ya please just lemme in?"

"Okay buddy listen closely; I'm not your 'darlin', you can address me by Ms. Phoenix or by Charlie." I hiss before opening the door and side stepping so Pete can move inside.

The combat booted feet stepped loudly into the office. Closing the door lightly, I glance over at the baseball capped figure. With his military boots he stood at six foot solidly. The sweatshirt that donned his torso hugged his back snuggly, his muscles visibly rippling with his movement. Pete stood in front of my desk, examining the plaque. His long finger traced the engraved letters before turning around.

"Charlotte huh? Think I like that better than Charlie." He smirks before cocking his head toward the window.

"Yeah well, good thing it doesn't matter what you like, Mr. Castiglione." I grumbled, trying to loudly stomp over to the strange man.

Before I could even cross halfway he hushed me and I froze. The ice in his voice created a tangible buzz in the room. Pete stood as a statue, only his eyes moving; surveying the area. My breaths are shallow and silent as his gaze shifts back toward the window. My eyes follow, hoping to see whatever he's noticed. The view is an even older building than the one we're in currently. Rust colored bricks are stacked neatly, an extra two stories added to the opposing structure. A small glint sparkles in the sunlight from a window adjacent to our own.

The next few moments went in slow motion. I could feel the words forming as Pete moved. His reaction quick and precise as he dove for me. His hard body moved so fluidly, it was as if he was a snake striking its prey. Pete flips the office desk over to shield our bodies from incoming glass and ricocheting bullets. A shrilling scream pierces the air as Pete's hard body lands on mine. The rough floor rips the fabric of my dress as we come to a skidding stop. Pete lay's his hard body over mine, taking the brunt of any incoming debris. Screams continue to mix with the shattering glass and light clinks of metal. The old wood splinters from the walls, covering the area around us. This is it Charlie, we're going to die. We're going to die with a weird lumberjack on top of us.

Silence.

Our breaths halt as the room settles. Dust hangs in the air, sparkling in the new sunlight pouring in. My eyelids squint open, finding Pete's dark irises staring into my own. He moves his finger to his lips, before reaching for one of my heels. My eyes widen in wonder while watching Pete's movements. He returns to his original position, settling comfortably on my torso. He places a hand over my mouth and throws the shoe high into the air. I slam my eyes shut in anticipation for the worst. The wait for crashing, shattering, screaming, anything that would confirm Pete's theory was painstaking.

Silence.

A breath of relief falls from Pete as he positions himself to get up. Pete reaches down to help me up and I gladly accept. With little effort he pulls me from the floor and together we take in the damage. The aged walls around the office now show just remnants of remaining paint. The monitor screen has a large spider like crack from the impact of Pete flipping the desk. Bullets that had missed the hard oak walls lay scattered across the floor. The paneling around the window was littered with holes, and the realization finally hit me. If Pete hadn't flipped the desk, we would be dead. Full of holes. The Swiss Cheese of dead people. 

"Hey, hey, you alright?" Pete questions, slowly moving forward to place his hands on my shoulders. 

"What, the aCTUAL FUCK!"


	4. Chapter 4

"Uh, are you gonna listen to that again? It's the sixteenth time you listened to it lady."

Pete was right. The song repeated again for now the seventeenth time as I sit crossed legged on the floor. The soothing melody from The Animals escapes from my phone, filing the office with loud music. Ya know, this is like a movie. Imagine, the camera rising up to the ruined office with this playing in the background. Charlie we have a great imagination! Shut up!

"Listen here you lumberjack looking, James Bond mother fucker; if you don't like it either close your ears, or um I don't know, shut up."

Granted the comeback wasn't great but after what just happened, I'm surprised I could even talk. Within twenty-four hours I've almost been killed twice. Twice! The room is still filled with a type of tangible electricity, which makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. 

After the attack, Pete had decided it was probably safer for me to sit than stand. Once he had helped me to my feet, my legs gave way. My mouth opened and closed, a wordless conversation trying to happen as he assured me everything was fine. After placing me back on the floor, he went to survey the area street-side. Once he left it felt like an actual eternity before he returned. The quiet office was almost suffocating as I sat alone. Where's Daredevil when you need him? Is he bullet proof? Is Pete really a lumberjack James Bond? Feeling panic begin to rise from the pit of my stomach, I scramble for my phone. Checking out the Tony Stark background, I quickly open my music and start playing "House of the Rising Sun". Ever since Foggy and I were kids, this song was our constant go to in times of stress.  Once Pete returned he gave a funny look before taking in the damage of the room. 

"Look, Charlotte-"

"Dude if you call me Charlotte again, I will throat punch you."

Pete smirks at the threat before clearing his throat. His large arms cross against his torso while a hand goes to his face. Rubbing the beard covered jaw, he gives a crooked smile. 

"Right, right, Charlie. Okay Charlie, can you turn that shit off so we can talk?"

Hitting pause, you glance up at the tall man in front of you. He's removed his hat, revealing a mop of half curls the color of ravens feathers. He doesn't look stressed or flustered anymore, he looks more angry than anything. I could see his jaw visibly clenching as he examines my small form still seated on the old floor. Taking a long pause and deep breath, Pete looks hard at me before forcing a smile.

"Thanks. So, are you-uh are you okay? Are you hurt or-"

"Lemme stop  you right there Petey," I interrupt, placing my hand up in a stopping fashion. "No. No I am not alright. Within the last twenty-four hours I have almost died twice. TWICE. First with that stupid ninja cheerleader, and now with a lumberjack James Bond. I don't know what the FUCK happened with this city."

"Hey-hey calm down. " Pete kneels down quickly, placing his hands gently on my shoulders. "Charlie, I need ya ta breathe okay?" Without realizing it, I had started hyperventilating. The pressure and firm contact from Pete's hands were comforting. He tucks a loose piece of hair behind my ear, while our breathing falls in syncopation. 

"Atta girl."

The words are hushed and gentle, and Pete conveyed so much within the short sentence. His dark eyes examined every inch of my face, before smiling lightly. The corners of his mouth turning upward, making the smallest of crinkles appear beside his eyes. Pete's large hands fall from my shoulders, outstretched waiting for mine to fall into place. 

"I got it, thanks though."

"Fine by me lady." 

Pete steps away slowly, his hands up in a type of surrendering fashion. Rolling my eyes, I hoist my body up and catch my balance. Straightening the disheveled dress, the ripped hem catches within my fingers. The once smooth material is rough and wrinkled. The once unmarked shins are starting to discolor, the forming of a few bruises appear. My hair, once set stylishly and in place is now unkempt. The office itself is in an extreme disarray, with objects thrown about the rooms.

"Charlie, what do you mean 'ninja cheerleader'?" Pete questioned, keeping a comfortable distance between us. 

"Ninja cheer- Oooohhh, Daredevil! Last night I was in the middle of a perfectly normal mugging, and this cheerleader in red saved the day."

Pete chuckles and clenches his fists. His whole demeanor changes at the mention of 'The Devil'. If I thought he was tense before, this must be a new type of physical emotion. Pete's stature changed, ready to pounce into attack mode if he needed to. Just looking at him gave me a thrill and a lot of anxiety. Moving forward slowly, I place a comforting hand on his forearm. The surprise Pete shows makes me smile as I try to calm him. 

"Hey buddy, it's cool. He's not all that bad, and I mean he's not here so just calm down Petey."

"I just can't believe Red is back." Pete grumbles before taking a step back. 

Hey, we called him Red too! 

My inner monologue is interrupted by loud footfall. Muffled voices come from the hallway, and they're closing in quickly. Panic fills the area, and Pete and I exchange like glances. Fear and worry upon mine; readiness and worry upon his.. He movements were quick and precise, placing his body in front of mine. Pete's large arm wraps protectively across my front, and I can feel the sweat starting to appear. Our eyes are glued to the opening, and Pete moves his freehand to the inside of the grey hoodie covering his form. This is it

The door achingly swings open, barely holding on from the events of earlier. I anticipate shooting, screaming and a lot of pain. Nothing happens. Silence. Quiet enough to hear a fly hiccup. Realizing my eyes had closed, I force them open slowly. Pete's large body is still positioned protectively, so I have to stand on the tips of my toes to see the door. Pete stays stoic as I lift myself up and sigh lightly at the man in the door. 

"Charlie, are you okay?"

"Hey Matt, yeah I'm fine."   
**************************************


	5. Chapter 5

"Foggy, seriously I'm fine."

"Just give me another-"

"Franklin Nelson if you don't step away, I'll hit you in the dick so hard you'll never be able to have children."

Foggy takes a hurried step back as Pete laughs quietly in the background. Karen and Matt have locked themselves in his office, leaving the three of us alone in a destroyed waiting area. There was an annoying and obvious tension between Foggy and Pete. The men stood opposite of each other in the disheveled area, angry stares being shared. Pete crossed his arms, leaning against the wall comfortably. 

After Matt, Foggy, and Karen busted in to find the office in disarray; chaos ensued. Pete had made eye contact with each figure, his gaze holding Karen's the longest. Matt's body language was strange. He was poised as if he were ready for a fight to ensue. Once Foggy finally caught a glimpse of my figure behind Pete's, he rushed over. His face full of worry and despair, grabbing my face between warm hands. That's when the interrogation began, with Matt and Karen silently slinking off to his office. 

Silence filled the seemingly cramped room, until Matt opened his office door. The squeak from old hinges catches everyone's attention as Karen walks out confidently. Her heels click rhythmically against the hard wooden floor. Occasionally a small piece of glass would crunch beneath the heel, creating a new musical number. Matt follows close behind, head straight with unnerving stillness. 

Karen walks right up to me and I gulp loudly. A floral scent flows between us, and her smile is blinding. Well here goes our confidence. She grabs me by the shoulders and pulls us both into a warm embrace. Reacting more surprised than I should've I hugged back too enthusiastically. She pulls away, keeping her hands planted firmly on my shoulders.

"Charlie, I'm so excited to meet you. Foggy has said so many great things about you!"

"Uhhhh-h-hey?" Was all I could muster before Matt breaks the uncomfortable situation with a clearing of his throat. All eyes fall onto Matt as he steps into the center of the room. His suit jacket has been removed, a white long sleeved button up covering his torso. His tie has been loosened, hanging freely about his neck comfortably. 

"Charlie can you come stand over here please?"

"Uh, sure? Everything okay Matty boy?" I question, stepping cautiously around Karen's slim body. Matt motions to the spot behind him and in front of now Foggy. The journey to this spot seems endless and foreboding. The eyes of Pete burn into the back of my head as I shuffle by. While walking past Matt, he uses his arm to guide me safely behind him. This is really weird. Weirder than usual. Weirder than probably the ninja cheerleader. 

"Why are you here?" Foggy addresses Pete who has yet to move from his position. 

"I need the help of my favorite lawyers, jackass." Pete quips, finally removing himself from the wall. He stands tall and confidently as he sizes up both Matt and Foggy. Matt visibly tenses up, stealthily shifting his body further in front of mine. We should say something.

"Anyone wanna explain to me what's going on?" 

The question hangs strangely in the air. Everyone but Pete shifts uncomfortably while glaring at one another. Foggy places a hand on my shoulder, but I ignore it, keeping eye contact with Pete. Karen moves over to Pete, moving her hair behind her ear in the process. He stands a little straighter as she takes a similar stance to the one Matt is in. 

"Frank needs our help, it's what we're here to do."

Whose Frank?

"Karen, you know we can't do that. Not after what he's done." Matt's voice is forceful and sincere. There is no hesitation while he speaks, no trembling in his voice. The response was confident and completely sure. Matt wasn't wavering on his stance, and to be honest it was bone chilling. It was also really hot. 

"Listen here Murdock, you owe my you sonofa bitch." Pete spits, leaning across Karen's tall frame. 

"Okay, that's enough." I proclaim loudly. Pulling away from Foggy and pushing my way past Matt I take center stage. Hands placed strongly on my hips, I bring my attention to Matt and Foggy. Fear covers Foggy's face while Matt has the remnants of a smirk fading slowly from his. 

"Okay assholes, Mr. Castiglione has every right to representation; regardless of what he's done. It our jobs you idiots. So-"

"Charlie, that's not Pete Castiglione." Foggy inserts rushing forward. 

"What do you mean Fogger?"

"That's Frank Castle."

*******************************************************

The dull orange hue of the sky decorates the city as if Vincent van Gogh had painted the scene himself. A chilling breeze pushes loose leaves and trash gingerly along the pavement. The city buzzes with activity, truly being a city that never sleeps. Tall, frightening shadows from the towering skyscrapers litter the streets. The sweet smell of cinnamon mixes with the fresher smelling air. Matt's lean arm brushes tenderly against my shoulder, sending goosebumps to attack my skin. Glancing over quickly, his head was already turned towards my direction. It feels like he's looking right at me. 

"So, Matt?"

"Hm?" We step simultaneously down the stoop and onto the connecting sidewalk. The rhythmic tapping of his white cane helps us keep our pace. Offering his arm, I slip mine into his and we continue our journey elbows linked. 

After finding out Pete was actually Frank, I think I handled the situation well. I only threw one chair, and the string of fowl words weren't all that awful. Foggy did have to hold me back while Karen rushed Frank from the room. Anger wasn't my first reaction, which is a surprise. My first reaction was fear, because I had no idea who this guy was. Why would he lie about his name? Why did he act like James Bond? How did he know my best friend, and his friends? He saved my life which is something I'll forever be thankful for, but he also put my life at risk. Something tells me those bullets weren't meant for me. Before anymore damage could be done to the office, Matt had offered to escort me home. 

"This Castle guy... What exactly went down with him? I tried doing some research on him while you guys were out and nothing popped up."

Matt stays quiet a while as I fully embrace the scenery. New York has always been on my list of favorite places, and I've done a little travelling in my college days. No matter where I went, I always compared every place to New York. Comparing the lack of buildings, the different smells and people. The way birds sang their song's never matched, which made me crave the big city even more. Picture an old movie set in New York, what do you see? Old ladies yelling from fire escapes, men walking around in business suits holding leather brief cases. It's still the same. Being in Hells Kitchen is like taking a step back in time, minus the raging homophobia. 

Matt moves quickly around a broken bottle before answering. His voice is even and calm, not giving a hint of any of the previous tension. "Frank Castle is an old client, who has done some pretty horrific stuff. We all thought he was dead, that is of course until Karen told us otherwise. Charlie, please just leave this to me and Foggy."

"Well, ya see Matthew, I just can't do that." I sass, pulling his body closer to mine so a pedestrian can pass. We stay close for a few more feet before he pulls away slowly, his warmth going with him. The city's street lights are popping on randomly while the sun retreats behind the buildings. Still another hour until full sunset, yet here in Hells Kitchen night comes early. 

"Heh, oh and why not?" Matt's chuckle was enough to send joy through my whole body. It was airy and free. Not loud in any sense, but the perfect pitch and volume for those close to hear. The reaction came right from his chest, the movement of the area visible. A soft smile lit up his face before he turns toward me with an eyebrow raised.

"Because Matt, this isn't something someone can just let go. You said it yourself 'everyone deserves representation'. Regardless of what this lumberjack looking James Bond-"

"Lumberjack looking James Bond?"

"Don't interrupt Matthew. But yeah, lumberjack looking James Bond. Regardless of what he's done, if he needs us then we have to help. If you or Foggy won't help him, then I will." 

We reach a crosswalk and our own personal silence blocks out the noisy world. The sidewalk fills with people, pushing our bodies into one another. His sweet scent is intoxicating and I can't help but smile at the moment. Glancing through hooded lids, I can see a similar smile playing on his own lips. Matt rolls his lips together, a look of deep thought flashing across his features. A set of white teeth appear while he smiles. 

"You know, Foggy never mentioned you being so stubborn."

"I'm not surprised," I laugh "Foggy has always been quiet when it comes to my personality. He likes to call it 'over-powering' or 'intimidating' whatever that means." The little man turns green, giving us the go to cross the street. Tugging slightly, Matt and I continue our walk. The crowd thins pretty quickly, leaving the two of us to enjoy the walk alone. 

"Eh, intimidating is a bit much. Foggy can be over-dramatic."

"Matt, you're avoiding the subject."

Our steady pace slows to a stop and Matt turns to look at me. His face doesn't give a hint as to what he's thinking. Pulling my bottom lip between my teeth, I wait for an answer. The city around us continues to darken and the streets are now coming to life with the night crowd. Another chilling breeze creeps into my bones as the temperature continues to drop. Gripping my coat tightly against my chest, I shift back and forth on my feet in annoyance. 

"Charlie... why don't we talk about this tomorrow? I'll come get you tomorrow morning for breakfast."

"Yeah, I suppose Matt." I grumble, and start walking away. Matt jogs a little to catch up, and links his arm through mine again. 

"Whoa whoa, slow down. I did say I would walk you home." 

***********************************************************************************************

The rest of the walk home was awkward but oddly comfortable. Knowing that Matt and Foggy were that against helping this Frank guy was awful. Every one deserves representation, it's in the defense attorney handbook. As if sensing my attitude toward the situation, Matt didn't try and continue to make small talk. Thoughts continued to pool even after we had reached my apartment. Matt had wished me a quick goodnight, and I went in as quick as possible. Even walking up the stoop, or when behind the door I felt Matt's focus on me. 

My heels hit the wall loudly as I kicked them off. The soft patter of bare feet against the wood floor fills the apartment. While walking down the hallway, I unzip my dress letting it fall slowly. Stepping over the fabric, my foot fall continues quietly until I reach the bathroom. The light blue room is a welcomed and refreshing sight. Stepping in smoothly, I reach right over to the hot water tap of the shower. Once the steam starts to pool from above the curtain, the bra and underwear come off. Checking over my body, small bruises have begun to appear from the events of the day. Stepping into the hot water, a moan of pure ecstasy escapes. The burning water feels so therapeutic and heavenly. 

The bathroom door opens slowly, a loud creak following suit. My heart jumps into my throat, a scream building. A large dark shadow casts over the shower curtain, making goosebumps kiss my skin. Hard footsteps echo across the tiled floor, the steps themselves sounding as if they came from combat boots. Grabbing the small razor from the soap holder, I hold it out ready to use as a weapon. Gulping loudly, I move slightly to the edge of the tub. Grabbing the curtain between two fingers I breathe out before getting interrupted.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you Charlotte."

Ripping the curtain back, standing there is a familiar face. 

"What the fuck are you doing in my HOUSE?"


	6. Chapter 6

"Well?"

The words escape as a mere squeak. A smirk played coyly on his lips, while blood flushed to my cheeks. Grabbing the shower curtain quickly, I wrapped the fabric protectively around myself. He cleared his throat, moving his head up and to the right as if to give me some privacy. His clothing was the same as the last time I saw him. A small laugh fills the space between us as his hand rests on the back of his neck.

"I'm really sorry. I just wanted to make sure you were okay?" His answer came as more of a question. Groaning loudly, I close the curtain and hide. The hot water pounds rhythmically against my skin, scolding the bare area with each drop. The steam rising from the stream is calming, easily taking the edge away. Slinking slowly down the shower wall, I end up sitting crossed legged in the bottom of the tub. The shadowy figure had changed it's position, standing there now awkwardly with arms crossed. Slowly, I start banging my head against the wall, hoping if I do it enough it'll knock me out.

"Charlotte?"

"Huuuu- It's Charlie... I told you this. What are you doing here? How did you get in here?"

"I told you, I-"

"Wanted to make sure you were okay? Save it 'Bring it On'. Breaking and entering isn't the way to do it dude. Could've like, oh I don't know, knocked on the door like a sane person."

The remark was met with a door closing which gave me time to quickly finishing bathing. Well he's not here to hurt me, at least I don't think so. If he was here to hurt me, me being defenseless in the shower was his best opportunity. With a quick rinse of the foamy soap, I shut the tap off and brace myself for the cool air. Ripping the shower curtain open quickly, I reach for the nearest towel and wrap it securely about my form. Stepping slowly over the tub, a thousand different scenarios occur in my head. This could be it Charlie, this could be the day that we die. We lived a decent life, though you've been on a dry streak lately... Maybe he'll buy you dinner before he kills us.

Slipping quietly through the door, the patter of wet feet on the hardwood floor captures the masked vigilante's attention. Red was positioned casually against the far window, comfortably peering out the closed blinds. As soon as my foot fall began, his head snapped in my direction. Hanging my head low, my feet shuffle towards the door to the left. The door shuts quietly as I make my way to the closest pieces of clothing. Grabbing a black tank top and a pair of fleece bottoms, I force the fabric onto a still wet body. With my attire clinging in odd places, I wrap my hair up in the towel, grab the bat from earlier that day, and make my way back to the masked man.

"Okay Red, you see that I'm fine. What do you really want?"

My question finishes by the time I reach the opening. Red hasn't moved from his spot, though he had stopped looking out of the window. His body moves with ease while pushing himself from the slanted position. The scuffle of leather breaks the silence, and his attention is focused solely on me. My body feels hot and sweaty as he strides over with confidence, his left hand outstretched slightly. This is just like the fan-fiction we used to read in high school. His movements were slow and precise, using his right hand to remove one glove. The seconds ticked by agonizingly slow, until Daredevil was stood just mere inches away. He smelled of aged leather with just the smallest hint of cinnamon. Surprise struck my body as his left hand gently traced my cheek. The touch was cool and comforting, leaving a fiery trail in its place. His fingers did a ghostly dance along my cheekbone, sparking electricity with each movement. Without consent from my mind, my body had decided to lean in to the hand; grasping at the intimacy of the moment. Being so close to someone so dangerous made my skin crawl with temptation and fear. I was so engrossed in the moment when he moved his hand to my temple and I didn't notice, that is until a stinging pain followed.

"Your temple is bleeding, are you feeling alright?" His words sounded as if he were underwater, the adrenaline still burning in my veins. Red moved his gloved hand toward my bare one, grabbing the it softly. The leather was oddly warm, sending another wave of fire burning slowly throughout my body. Our journey to the love seat was blurred and before I could fully process the situation, our knees brushed against one another. In a blur of movement, his right hand is freed from the glove and now both grace my face. The leather clad man moved his hands slowly, his fingers nimbly exploring the flawed skin. The coolness of his contact sent electricity across my body. His icy touch examined my face thoroughly, scanning for anymore wounds. When he was satisfied I was good enough, he moved away slightly. Our proximity to one another became a conscious thought as my eyes had fluttered open. When did I close my eyes?

"I-uh- ow, yeah I didn't know that happened. It must've happened when Frank grabbed me and flipped the table. Shit, is it bleeding a lot? Alexa, turn the living room lights on." My voice wavered with uncertainty and something else. Desire. My whisper sat in the air, mixing in with the words he had so quietly spoken. The urge to look under the mask at my savior was delicious. The temptation to pull him in, for our lips to meet and dance willfully together. His lips looks soft like rose petals with small blemishes spotting them. 

The room illuminates in a dull hue from the lamps that sit randomly, but fashionably in the area. Daredevil was closer than I imagined, his lips just seeming to hover over my forehead. The suit looked different in this lighting. That's when the realization hit. The suit was littered with dark, nonuniform shapes. Each patch different in size, shape, and hue of color. These were blood spot covering the leather suit, whether it was from the man or someone else I don't think I want to know. Even with Red covered in blood, I couldn't force myself to move away. I wanted to be closer, to touch his own face like he had be caressing mine. My gaze wanders in wonder over the man in front of me, slowly taking in every inch of his body. Eventually my sight lands on his hand that had grazed the small wound. Scarlet liquid paints the tip of Daredevil's finger, the contrast between his pale skin and my blood was beautiful. 

"You should be okay Charlie. I know this is weird, and if I didn't have to be here I wouldn't. I just need to know what happened today." His voice was even and cool sending chills racing across through my body.

"Oh. Yeah. Yeah. Wait, are you planning on killing anyone? You're already covered in blood, and I don't think I'm cool with telling you anything if you're going to murder some dude."

The room fell silent once more, and the urge to move away from Red was hard to resist. He sat there, head hung before placing his hands softly on my knees. Moving cautiously, my hands press softly onto his. He doesn't move, he doesn't react, Daredevil seems to freeze under my touch. Panicking slightly, I go to remove my hands before the situation became anymore uncomfortable. Red had moved so quickly, I let out an audible gasp when his hands clutched my own. Sighing loudly, I force my gaze to his helmet and begin with the events of the day not leaving out a single detail.

***********************************************************************************************

"That's it? That's all you remember?"

It was well passed midnight by the time I had recounted every thing I could remember about the events of the day. A day old pizza box sat half open on the coffee table, pieces of crusts sticking out awkwardly. A half empty glass of wine sits dangerously close to the tables edge, on small bump would send it crashing down. Red had declined everything I offered him, and very politely might I add. Pulling my hand through my now curly hair a yawn mixes with my response.

"Yeah, that's all I can remember. Like I said, it was my first day so everything seemed pretty normal. The only factor I guess was that Castle guy but I don't understand what he has to do-"

Before the thought can finish, Daredevil raises his hand to my mouth. His fingers brush softly against my lips, making butterflies take flight on the inside. The urge to lay small kisses on the pads on his fingers was so strong, my lips started to pucker before he pulled away. 

"Someone's here. Charlie, grab the bat and answer the door; I won't be far."

No protest can be made as Red gives a small smile before darting to the kitchen. Following after, I grab the bat I had discarded before hearing a window open. Gulping loudly, I abandon my chase of the masked man and make my way to the front door. The metal bat drags loudly across the floor, while my footsteps are barely audible. A rough knock strikes surprise into my body as I reach my destination. Fear, anxiety and paranoia are present in my voice as I question the person on the other side. 

"Char it's Fog, open up."

Never has relief and happiness washed over my body so quickly. Without another moment's hesitation, the door is open and I fling myself into Foggy's arms. His embrace is warm and comforting, the feeling of safety and home all in one. Lifting me every so slightly he carries us both back into the home, using his foot to close the door. Once we're comfortably inside, he places me down lightly. My eyes burn from mascara running into my eyes as tears begin to well. The events of the day all seem to real when Foggy showed up to check on me. 

"Charlie, are you going to have a break down?"

"Yeah, Foggy... I really think I fucking am."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original work on Wattpad

**Author's Note:**

> Original work from Wattpad


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